Converted Mets Fan: Queens

Well, that wasnt so bad.

We couldn't get swept by the Braves with so many good vibes coming out of Washington. It's so clichè...but play .500 ball on the road, rock out at home.

And we're ready to rock out with you, Metropolitans.

I'm MORE than ready to rock out.

As I write this, I'm sitting on the B train in my bright orange Mets T-shirt, ready to transfer to the 7 at 42nd Street/Bryant Park, although I have yet to hit DeKalb St, LET ALONE the Manhattan Bridge (at the time of this specific typing...) The Citi still feels so far away, yet if all goes right, and the MTA follows through in the time I'm accustomed to on their best days (and those are dwindling 😕) then I will be there for at least the first pitch, though of course unfortunately missing some pomp and circumstance.

I'm mostly interested, though, in getting to Mets baseball.

So, let's raise the American buntings, and fly the American flag.

Let's stare at those championship flags flying high in the outfield and aim to put several more up there in our lifetimes.

There's no better time to get some good Metsian vibes underway, even if they're still working through some kinks.

It's time to rally round the Mets.

It's time to kick some ass.

LET'S. GO. BASEBALL.

LET'S. GO. METS.

met·ro·pol·i·tan
ˌmetrəˈpälətn/

adjective

1.

of, relating to, or denoting a metropolis, often inclusive of its surrounding areas.

noun
an inhabitant of a metropolis.

Sometime in September of 2014, I left a friend's place near Dyckman St. and Broadway up in the 200's of the Grid of the Island of Manhattan around 12:20am. I went down into the A train station and got to the machine to refill my Metrocard. As I got to the machine, I looked back at the stairwell, then back at the machine. I smiled to myself and walked back towards the stairs.

In an effort to be somewhat stingy as a sacrifice for a journey, I ventured off at 12:25am, first down Broadway.

I passed Fort Tyron Park, and Trinity Cemetery, which proceeds what I've seen in the daytime to be a hidden gem of the city in the Audubon Terrace.

I passed a McDonalds at 145th St. I did not stop.

Though I didn't pass it's beautiful campus, I passed the City College 1 train stop on Broadway at 137th St.

The land under me dipped at 125th Street.

I passed Columbia University.

I passed Duke Ellington Blvd.

I entered the Upper West Side.

Let's even put Zabars on there as a landmark.

I kept going passed a number of namable landmarks on this New York Journey, probably arriving at 59th and Columbus Circle, at the Southwest corner of Central Park, around 2, give or take who knows how long.

I hopped on a CitiBike.

From there, I traveled, yet again, down Broadway, turning onto Chambers St. to catch the Brooklyn Bridge.

From Tillary over to Jay Street, I eventually made my way over to Fulton, catching it to Franklin Ave before turning and letting the Bike off at Lefferts Pl.

I then walked down Fulton St to Brooklyn Ave, which is where I made my first stop of the night. I had gone so long just walking, biking, and walking, it was time to replenish some nutrients.

At the deli, I got a plastic jug of water, IMMEDIATELY OPENED IT, then ordered a burger, a breakfast sandwich for later, a Naked juice (I don't remember which one) and a banana. and I'm pretty sure I got a coffee as well.

I then walked down Brooklyn Ave passed Atlantic Ave and turned onto Sterling Pl. I arrived in the room I was sleeping in at 3:59am.

And some may ask, "WHY'D you do THAT?"

Because I DO THAT kinda shit.

That's a Metropolitan way of life.

See, at the time, I was staying in Crown Heights between Brooklyn and Kingston Aves on Sterling Pl. This was after staying in East Williamsburg on Powers St between Olive and Bushwick in August. And before that, for 15 days, I lived off the goodwill of some lovely folks and their couches/spare beds after leaving my mothers' living room loft on July 15, after basically a 2-year stint under the roof of two different mothers (lesbians, fyi, BOTH Jewish) at two separate times. And that's after my girlfriend and I broke up.

Living at home can stunt growth. Living in your mother's loft is adolescent purgatory.

So, finally, and really, under the "THIS IS WHEN YOU HAVE TO LEAVE" window, negotiated to increase by 15 days, I left.

And I ventured off backpacking across the city of New York with a Mets Wheelie bag at my stead.

New York City has it all, but it shouldn't be mistaken for a city. Really, it is a conglomerate of cities that just so happened to unite under the city term so to make its expansion much more seamless. And it's really the thing I have the most passion for in my life.

I am a Metropolitan.

I am of this "city."

I have lived in every borough but Staten Island, no offense to them (and knowing me, I'll probably stay out there 6 months or so one day just to round it out.) I have lived in Queens twice, Manhattan a number of times, it being the place I grew up after 10 years old (which is really when I was born again and my growth arch has reflected that.)

I have lived in Parkchester in the Bronx, kinda Park Slope in Brooklyn, but not really, Crown Heights twice, Astoria and Sunnyside, Queens, Hell's Kitchen the majority of the time and Greenwich Village to kick the whole thing off in '95.

Everything in my life, baseball, the Mets, film, music, family, Two Boots, is fueled by my passion for the City of New York. For 20 years now, come the end of August, I will have been a New York City resident.

And 10 years ago, I had my first season as a full-fledged Mets fan.

I have needed to grow up, and have, in some fashion, a similar arch the last 10 years to the Mets. But it's time.

So, it's about me. And it's about you. And it's about her, and it's about him. And it's about them, and it's about IT.

It's about being a Metropolitan.

And it's never been a better time to be one.

Life is finite, but as long as we're alive, there is an infinite amount of stories we can collect. And as I write this, I am getting ready to collect more in a few hours. I will catch a bus to to another city, a fantastic walking city that happens to be our nation's capitol, to kick off this new era in the world of the Mets. And I can't be any more pumped.

2015 has finally arrived, and I will take it in in apparently 73 degree weather at 4:05pm ET for the first time in Nationals Park. Bartolo Colon. Max Sherzer.

I'm Back.

The Metropolitan is ready to take off.

Get Up Offa That Thing.

LET'S. GO. MET'S.